The Story Store V: Wall of Ignorance
by ArenLuxon
Summary: The Story Store runs into some trouble.


The man entered the Story Store. He was dressed in his usual attire consisting of a checkered grey dress shirt and suspenders with a black coat over it. His Santa Claus beard was neatly trimmed and his loyal sailor cap was on, hiding the little bald spots in his graying hair.

Behind the counter was a freckled boy. When he saw him entering, he jumped upright, a bit of fear in his eyes. "Mr Martin." He swallowed hard. "She's waiting for you in the back."

Mr Martin nodded and opened the door at the back which read 'private' in big letters. He walked through the short hallway and knocked once on a certain door.

"Come in," a voice said.

He opened the door and walked in.

"Ah, Mr Martin," the woman said. "Have a seat please."

He sat down on an empty chair in front of her desk.

Today, the nameless owner of the story store looked like a young girl. Her hair was copper-colored and restrained in a neat braid which danced over her left shoulder. Her eyes were two fierce emeralds. Unlike him, she didn't wear glasses today.

He knew she could change her appearance however she wished in the blink of an eye, but he had never seen her like this in the last _five-and-forty_ years. Usually, she looked like a woman in her twenties with fair skin, curly blonde hair and glasses. Scarlet lipstick and nail polish and tight business clothing which covered just enough to remain professional.

 _Femme fatale_ were the words that always came to mind when he saw her like that.

A drastic change like this just had to mean something, but he wasn't keen on pressing on about it.

Her secretary entered. Like everyone working here, she never aged, although, the rest of the personal had either very limited control over their appearance, or they weren't allowed to change it. Either way, the woman looked the same as always: black hair put in a ponytail with an elegant blue scrunchie and big brown doe-eyes. She was dressed in a traditional French maid outfit, complete with all the frills.

"Would you like to drink something, Mr Martin?" The maid asked, bowing slightly.

"Reader tears please," Mr Martin said. A slightly sadistic smile formed itself, but then it was gone again.

"Certainly." She bowed again and left.

"So," the owner said. "How are things going with you?"

He sighed. "Look, season 6 wasn't half bad, but _how dare they kill Ramsey_!"

"Uhum." She looked away, a bit embarrassed. "D&D said the viewers would like it."

"Exactly. They took out the entire point. My readers and viewers need to suffer. I want them to be afraid to turn the page, and they just kill of my best villain ever. What am I supposed to do now?"

"I told them, but they didn't listen and well, we sell stories, not criticism."

The maid came back to give him his drink. Then, she quickly left again.

"So," the redhead said. "What do you plan to do with _The Winds of Winter_?"

"Yeah, about that. I need you to push the release date back again."

"Again? But, the story's been finished for over fifteen years."

"I know. But if everyone knew how it all ends, it would lose its thrill. So we'll wait, at least until season 7 is finished, or maybe even until season 8."

She sighed. "You do have to publish something. People are starting to lose their patience."

He shrugged. "Release The World of Ice and Fire then. That should keep them busy for a while."

"You oppose fan fiction yet you plan to publish a book with fan art? Don't you think that looks a bit...hypocrite?"

"Fan art and fan fiction are not the same thing," he insisted.

"Try to explain that to your fans," she said dryly.

It was silent for a few moments.

"The cover of your new book has leaked," she mentioned.

"That's fine," he said. "The Horn of Joramun will keep them busy for a while."

"About that horn," she said. "It's supposed to 'wake giants from the earth' and blowing it can bring down the Wall?"

"Yeah."

"And how high did you say this wall of yours was?"

"700 feet." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I'll forgive you the mumbo-jumbo units, but really, you should know that ice melts under pressure."

"So?"

"At around fifty metres the bottom would melt down. That's how glaciers move. Your wall of ice is four times bigger than is physically possible. So really you should be calling it the Horn of Physics."

"Well, it's protected by ancient spells and sorcery. You know, magic."

"Like how Renly magically changes eye color from 'laughing green' to 'deep blue'? Or your magical Kingsroad cuts straight through a swamp. How convenient there is one dry route for people to pass by. I hope you are aware that nerds are ninety percent of your audience."

"Well, ninety percent of my audience only watches the show, so I really don't have to bother with silly physics."

The door opened. The freckled boy leaned in.

"Miss," he said. "We have a situation."

"What's wrong?"

"Well, the last episode of season 6 was just broadcasted and uhm, Daenerys is sailing to Westeros."

"How do you mean _she is sailing to Westeros_!? That's two seasons early."

"I think the intern messed up somewhere."

She sighed.

Mr Martin stood up. "I think I'll take my leave then. I need to speak with D&D."

"Yes, of course," she said. "We'll speak again later. Once I've sorted out this mess."

He nodded and walked to the boy.

"Hold the door," he said.

The boy bit his lip.

With a chuckle, Mr Martin left them.

"I'm telling you Miss, we should do something about him, he can't just kill of all my favorite characters."

"You said the same thing when Shakespeare came in here." As she spoke, her hair slowly changed color.

"But Miss…"

"That's quite enough." She gave him a stern look. "Now sit down and tell me, how did they mess up like that? Daenerys isn't supposed to sail for Westeros until the final episode of the last season."

He sat down on the chair Mr Martin had just vacated. "Well, first they resurrected the Sand Snakes plot."

"I thought we agreed to bury that monstrosity?"

"I'm telling you, it's that new intern. So, first that, and then he made Varys teleport away to Essos somehow."

"This makes absolutely no sense." Her hair was blonde now, and curly. Her figure and clothes had changed as well.

"And then he added Tyrion," the boy finished, trying to focus.

"But...Tyrion is with...Young Griff."

Another knock on the door interrupted them. It was the maid.

"A letter," she said. "For D&D. Shall I bring it to them?"

"Give me that," the now-blonde woman said. She ripped open the letter and put on glasses that seemingly appeared out of nowhere. Her eyes quickly scanned the contents and then sighed.

"What does it say?" the boy asked.

She handed it to him and stood up. "I have some business to take care off."

The freckled boy looked at the letter. There was only one sentence on it:  
 _The readers remember._


End file.
